


stanley's journals

by 80stenbrough



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Short Chapters, Slow Burn, basically a heavy coming-of-age fic i'd say, bill is in mourning, it'll be happy at some points, most of this is stan's journal entries, not all of it is SAD!!!!!!!!!!!! SAD!!, okay? okay, stenbrough has my whole heart guys, they are SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT, we get to see stan figure himself out n grow as a person aw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 18:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13300734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/80stenbrough/pseuds/80stenbrough
Summary: “s-sir,” his voice cracked, “wh-wuh-wha-what a-ah-are they, eh-exactly?” his shaking, pale, and skinny hand pushed his auburn hair back, still staring at the three books. all day he had been counting his breaths, the tux his mother forced him into making it all too difficult to breathe. bill knew that if it were up to stan, he’d pick that sweater he loved bill in and one of bill’s unripped pair of jeans. that made his insides warm a little from the frostbite it had submerged itself in.or where bill reads stan's journals after death.





	1. bill's perspective (1)

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i am here w a few warnings  
> \- this will include short chapters. most of them are journal entries, and you don't typically write 3000 words an entry, right?  
> \- some entries will include triggering subjects. i will put a disclaimer at the top of the chapter to warn about said subjects.  
> \- some chapters will be bill's pov, which are typically longer than an entry. there will be very little bill's povs however.  
> \- this will have a ton of chapters. a. ton. that are short, like i said. you're in for a whole ride. some of them could be short two-sentenced entries or be a whole essay about his day. it will vary.  
> \- frequent updates!!!  
> sit back, enjoy, and get to know my boy, stan uris.

“y-yes. i am bill,” bill had replied curtly to stan’s father. the funeral depressed him, bill was only eighteen. he should have never felt the ripping pain of heartbreak over stanley’s death. of course, the drunk driver got life in prison. but that's besides the point. the point was, bill denbrough never had the chance to tell stan uris how he really felt about him. in fact, he was going to tell stan that upcoming weekend.

 

but he’ll never get to.

 

bill couldn't help but blame himself for stan's death. if he told stan to stay at his house that day, or if he said he could stay for dinner... none of it would happen. and he'd have stan still by his side, smiling and laughing, telling bill about a bird he saw yesterday at the park.  _there's no going back,_ a nagging voice in his mind reminded,  _he's gone and you can't undo it, buh-buh-buh-bill._ he closed his eyes, trying to forget the fact that the voice he imagined was stan's voice. he'd probably never forget the melody and harmony he has heard since he was a kid. even if he 'got over' stan, which bill doubt he ever will.

 

“stan… stan would’ve wanted you to have this,” donald heaved out, lightly placing three books into bill’s hands. the first cover seemed worn in, a doodle of a dove glued onto the front. the second one was a bit more pristine, a blue jay drawing plastered instead. the last one was the cleanest, although all of them were clean. instead of a bird smothered on the black binding, a peach watercolor was there instead. a realization passed over in bill’s mind, because,  _ he’d given those sketches to stan. _

 

“s-sir,” his voice cracked, “wh-wuh-wha-what a-ah-are they, eh-exactly?” his shaking, pale, and skinny hand pushed his auburn hair back, still staring at the three books. all day he had been counting his breaths, the tux his mother forced him into making it all too difficult to breathe. bill knew that if it were up to stan, he’d pick that sweater he loved bill in and one of bill’s unripped pair of jeans. that made his insides warm a little from the frostbite it had submerged itself in.

 

“stan… oh, you know him, bill, he loved to keep things o-organized,” donald wiped a tear, but continued on, “he kept all his thoughts in here. since he… was fifteen. in fact, i… i remember buying him the first one. for his birthday. nineteen dollars…” he trailed off, eyes glazing over. after a moment, however, he snapped back to reality. “i know how he was with you, and vice versa. andrea and i always knew. it… saddens me there wasn’t enough time. you would’ve treated him right, son,” donald smiled sadly. bill’s heart skipped a beat, but went to an even slower pace when he realized stan wasn’t there. he could never tell him how much he was in love with him he could never-

 

“th-thank y-yuh-you, sir, d-do you want th-them back?” bill croaked, running his thumb across the dove cover.  _ god,  _ he thought, _ please say no.  _ _ give me something to remember. _

 

“of course not, we have everything from him. and we read that a couple days after… the accident. it’s alright, bill, you are mourning just like the rest of us.” and like that, the rabbi went over to his wife, hugging her by the shoulders.

 

the air felt thick and heavy with dejection. a photo of stan was placed on a small stone, and for a moment bill forgot what happened. all he saw were stan’s eyes, and how warm and inviting they… were. he knows he’ll never get used to using past tense with stan, because stan was always somehow near him, in the present, since they were eight years old.

 

bill looked over at the group they had called the losers, and noticed they were all staring at him, tears staining all of their cheeks. although all of had been shot by sadness over stan’s death, no one could even think of the hollowness in bill’s bones. tears welled up again in his eyes, and, not even caring how weird it must’ve looked, brought the book to his nose.

 

it smelt of stan and paper.

 

and the tears flowed freely yet again, making the whole group walk over and hug him.

 

“i m-muh-m-miss him. i miss h-him s-so m-muh-much!” bill screeched out, the broken feeling that haunted him showing in his words. he hugged the books to his chest, squeezing it tight. 

"we miss him too, bill," mike whispered, rubbing his back soothingly. the rest of the losers nodded, not daring to say a sentence.

 

bill denbrough sobbed hard and numbingly in his friends’ arms, when he really just wanted to be in stan’s.


	2. journal entry one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> entry one, book one.

01/11/91,

 

hello, journal. my name is stanley uris, but you can call me stan. i am fifteen today, and this was one of my gifts. i had been asking for something like this for a while, but i could never save enough money to buy a well-made one.

 

i liked this one a lot, actually, i had picked it out when my friend bill denbrough and i were out one day. maybe he told my father, since i seen bill talk to him before he went home that day. when he left from the little get together we threw for my birthday, i found an old sketch of his to put on the front. isn’t it great? he has talent, i hope for one day i get to tell him so. he also got me a new light blue polo, since my old one had gotten a stain on it and i couldn’t wear it anymore. if i teared up, no one needs to know.

 

my friend beverly gotten me a pen to go alongside it. it’s a very gracious thought, because she told me it was eleven dollars. may not seem a lot, but for a pen it is. a small inscripture of a cardinal is on the cap. quite cute. i’m using that pen to write this now, actually. the ink flows nicely, and dries down quick. always a perk, since i’m left-handed.

 

ben, or haystack as richie calls him, got me new binoculars. isn’t that cool?! they seemed very expensive, too, i offered to pay him back. he declined, but i’ll get him back one day! they seem very high-tech, i think they were in one of my bird watcher’s digest issues. i share those with ben sometimes, he likes to find adjectives for his haikus in them.

 

mike, richie, and eddie pitched in together to buy me a fifty dollar book filled with over two hundred types of birds! my longest before this was eighty! it was incredibly sweet, and if i hadn’t had so many eyes on me, i would’ve tackled them all in a bear hug. and i  _ barely _ hug people.

 

it’s nine twenty eight p.m., so i best get to sleep. i like schedules, they help me keep control of my mind. routines, also. i like routines. if i can find a way, i’ll incorporate you into it, somehow!

 

goodnight!

 

-stanley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo... how was it? :-)
> 
> my twitter is 80sbiii, follow me theree!


	3. journal entry two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> entry two, book one

01/13/91,

 

hello, journal. sorry i didn’t write in you yesterday, i had shabbat. but today i’m here with happy news! bill went bird watching with me for the first time! he didn’t know much, not that i expected him to, but he spotted a nelson’s sparrow all by himself. when i asked him how he knew that, he said he got it from when i spoke about the bird. it’s my favorite from maine, so it made me feel good.

 

he also packed lunches, so we stayed out there for a while. bill had told me he made his mother buy turkey instead of ham, a book told him ham wasn’t kosher. no one, besides my family and other friends i’ve made, had ever thought about that. i mean, last week richie had kept questioning why i wouldn’t try his jell-o. it felt a bit, nerve-wracking for lack of a better word, since i didn’t want to be rude. i just said i wasn’t hungry.

 

i saw a puffin today! those are usually hard to spot, but i saw one! it was very small, smaller than i’d expected, but nonetheless very exciting! i got to take it off of the list of birds that i wanted to see. next, is probably a cardinal. one of my dad’s coworkers said that a cardinal likes to go into the birdbath at dusk. although my routine is very strict on those times, usually just homework, showering, and eating dinner, i must find a way!

 

bill gave me another sketch, too. it was a bright arum-lily, he said the simplicity of the flower reminded him of me. i put it up on my wall, right above my desk. the white of the flower contrasted with the blue on my wall nicely, so it matched. it took a while for me to figure out how to make the picture totally even, and then i had three tacks, when there needed to be four. so i looked and found one more but it was purple instead of a blue. i bought a whole pack more, so now it’s on my wall. it’s really nice.

 

i have to sleep, goodnight, journal. i saw that you have eighty pages in you, and i’ve already used up five. oh, well. it was nice writing this down. maybe my kids will read these in the future to know more about me at their age. that would be nice.

 

-stanley


	4. journal entry three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> entry three, book one.

tw// internalized homophobia

 

01/14/91

  
  


dear journal,

 

i should probably give you a nickname or something. it would be easier. 

 

i had a really… interesting day today, to say the least. richie had shown me a song from a band called ac/dc, after i caved in and let him show me some of his horrid rock music. but… i liked it. sure, it was different from cyndi lauper, but i really enjoyed it.

 

also, i’m pretty sure my parents tried to set me up with a girl today. her name was patty, and dad had mentioned she attended synagogue with us in bangor. i didn’t like how she wore a white button up with a more off white skirt. i’m sure she didn’t mean to, but i wanted to point it out to her very badly.

 

when my parents had forced us into the living room, patty had turned to me and said, “hey. i hope you don’t find offense to this, but i’m lesbian. please pretend you don’t like me to your parents, i don’t want to go any further than friends.” so i guess that’s that.

 

i haven’t met a gay person before her. sometimes i feel that eddie might be, since he doesn’t talk about girls a lot like how richie, ben, or bill do sometimes, but i don’t either. and neither does mike. we don’t talk about… that stuff.

 

i’ve always told myself the guys were just, more mature than me and knew how to deal with girls. i never liked girls, or talking about them. they dont seem interesting to me, and i don’t know why. i mean, richie had three girlfriends once in the second grade. so why can’t i think about them now? when do i grow up? sometimes i’m scared i’ll never grow up. the only time i think of someone romantically is, well, one time i thought i had a crush on a boy, but i was told that i couldn’t. because boys can’t like boys. maybe i just don’t like anything. mike told me once he doesn’t like anyone, girls or boys or anyone else in that way. maybe i’m like mike.

 

if boys can’t like boys, is it different for girls? since patty likes girls? how come she can like girls but boys can’t be together? i don’t understand. i should probably talk to mike about this, he knows a lot of stuff. but i just can’t wait to grow up like richie, ben, and bill. i want to relate to them. i feel left out, but atleast i have mike and eddie.

 

goodnight, i guess.

 

-stanley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my poor baby stan. he'll get it right...,, some day


	5. journal entry four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> entry four, book one.

 

2/23/91,

 

jay,

 

that’s gonna be what i call you. like blue jay. i have this picture bill drew of a blue jay, and it’s one of my favorites. he’s real good.

 

it’s been a while since i wrote in here, mostly because i’ve been busy. and… i think i have a crush.

 

i don’t like it, though, because i’m not supposed to crush like this. it’s on a boy. patty and i were hanging out and she was telling me about this girl she has in her french class, which sounds eerily like bev, and she talked about the girl with stars in her eyes. turning to me, patty had asked if i had a crush on anyone. i said no, i’m perfectly content with my friend group.

 

that’s when she smirked at me, looking like she knew something.

 

patty continued, asking who was my closest friend in the group. that was easy, bill. without hesitation. i grew quite annoyed when she asked me to describe him for her. but i did anyways. i talked about how he had nice green eyes that looked blue in certain lightings, how he loved to draw and write, and how much he cared for the losers. she looked at me knowingly, and excuse my french but i audibly gasped “fuck.”

 

she shouldn’t have done that! i was doing just fine pretending i felt platonic for bill! and now i can’t look at him in the eyes without blushing all over! one day, he said my hair looked nice. a total normal comment to say to your friend! and i started stuttering like him and my whole face went red! every time i see a cool horror book i think of bill, i just want to read about scary things in peace! my life is surely ruined. he’s gonna think im a freak and tell the club to stay away from me.

 

what the hell have i done! i’ve just completely annihilated my chances of being normal. my parents are going to disown me and oh god, pardon the tears smudging the ink. i don’t know what i’m doing anymore. i just wanna be like ben, who talks about girls with no problem and thinks about them romantically. but no! my mind had to go to bill denbrough.

 

i have messed my whole schedule up. i’ve put more time into making myself look nice than doing more important things. my hands twitch when a curl is out of place and i’m drawn to tears when acne shows up. i make it worse and try to get rid of it, it becomes more red. if my khakis don’t match my polo in the slightest i scramble and trash my room to find a better-matching shirt. then i have to pick it all up again! my room can’t be dirty! this takes up twenty more minutes of my morning. twenty minutes i could be packing my lunch or making sure my homework is finished (checking twice, of course, then editing my mistakes.) i was late for the bus one morning, and my whole body started shaking. all because i needed to tuck a stray curl into my kippah? gosh darn!

 

i am, how do you say it? a mess.

 

-stanley


	6. 6. journal entries five and six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> entries five and six, book one.

2/25/91,

 

jay,

 

bill has a crush on beverly and he told me.

 

nothing can make me feel worse than right now.

 

if i wasn’t so fucking stupid and  _ so gay _ , i wouldn’t have a problem. but bill likes beverly because he’s normal. he’s normal and perfect and will go on to have everything i want. i can’t breathe and nothing can help me. gosh, i wish i was normal.

 

-stanley. 

 

2/26/91,

 

jay,

eddie’s gay. when he told me, i told him i was, too. i have someone.

 

-stanley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry for being gone so long!!! writers block yaknow? to make it up for you guys i'm gonna update twice today!! also, sorry the update is angsty. whoops


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